Just A Shower
by Listy
Summary: Sheppard has survived so much. You wouldn't think taking a shower would be difficult, would you? Just a daft little drabble I was playing with. Contains Shep Whump


_Ok this is just a daft little drabble, purely for fun, that I was playing with, Not sure I am 100 happy with it, this could be a lemon but time will tell. Constcrit always welcome._

_Many thanks as always to my wonderful Beta Lauriel - Thank you for putting up with me :)_

**Disclaimer: **Although I would really love to be the proud owner of Stargate Atlantis, its Characters and cast, I don't and am therefore just playing and will return them as good as new! I am also not medically trained in anyway so medical terminology may well not be correct.

**Just a Shower**

Sheppard couldn't believe he had slept in; he never slept in, if anything he was always up and jogging before most of the Atlantis Scientists had gone to bed. What had happened with the alarm clock? He looked over to the corner of the room, where his faithful alarm clock now lay shattered in several pieces. He doubted that even Rodney's infinite skills could fix it. He didn't remember practicing his long ball with it, but it's not like anyone else would wander into his room and destroy his wake up call just for the hell of it.

He dived into the ice cold shower, not willing to wait for the flow of water over his body to become hot. He hastily washed and shaved, before speedily stepping out onto the equally uncomfortably cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Shivering he wrapped the towel around his dripping body and stepped out of the bathroom into his main quarters and began to hastily towel off and get dressed.

John looked around for some suitably clean clothes; his quarters had become cluttered. He really did need to attempt to clear up a little, but the recent back-to-back missions had left him so exhausted that on each return to his quarters, he had simply sunk into his bed. Only to be awoken by the now destroyed alarm clock for yet another briefing and subsequent mission. He grabbed his BDU's and stepped one foot into them. Unfortunately he hadn't noticed the pool of water forming around him. As he attempted to step into the other leg, his supporting leg slipped in the puddle. He desperately tried to regain his balance, but with his legs entangled in his clothing he had no hope of catching himself. He spun round, arms flailing, trying to reach for anything to grab on to but all he caught was air. The ground came to meet him at a much higher velocity than he would have liked and unfortunately his bedside table rudely got in the way - his head connected with a sickening bang, snapping his head back with enough force to send a stabbing pain down his spine . Everything went black.

oOo

"Colonel Sheppard, please respond." Carson was becoming impatient. Sheppard was supposed to meet him in the jumper bay as they were due to fly to the mainland this morning. Carson received no reply.

"Colonel this is Beckett, please respond." Nothing. "Rodney, can you check the city sensors and tell me if Colonel Sheppard is in his quarters?" Carson was becoming worried, it wasn't like John to be late for anything.

"Excuse me? Like I have nothing better to do than help you play hide and seek with the Colonel! Call him on his radio. I'm not his PA!" Rodney sounded flustered.

"I already tried him twice and he's not answering. He was due to accompany me to the mainland this morning." Carson's tone conveying the worry as it began to form in his mind.

"Fine, bringing up sensors now" Rodney had to admit it was rare for the Colonel to fail to materialise on time for a mission, the only other time he could recall, Sheppard had been struck down by some kind of alien virus leaving him bedridden. As he brought up the display, his moment of worry dissipated. "Well, I'm reading a life sign in his quarters so I guess that's him. Were you feeling too lazy to just go and check Carson? He probably has his comlink off. Now can I get back to my very important and might I add time critical experiment?" Rodney was becoming increasingly irritated. Carson cut off his connection to him before Rodney had the opportunity to add anything else to his tirade; he felt sure an onslaught of abuse was to follow. Scientists could be so tetchy when they thought they were about to make some ground-breaking discovery.

Carson headed to Sheppard's quarters, silently berating himself for overreacting. The Colonel was probably just in the shower and therefore would not have his radio on. But that niggling feeling of dread wouldn't go away. Better to just check in with him and make sure, or perhaps see if he needed to reschedule the trip. He arrived outside the Colonel's quarters and, after receiving no reply and failing to get a response again on the comlink, he used his medical override to enter the room.

Carson's eyes adjusted to the poorly lit space. He noted the curtains had not been opened and he squinted to take in the room, which on first appearances looked like someone kind of tornado had hit land there. On previous visits to John's quarters he had always found the room to be cluttered but tidy, with an array of objects from surfboards and skateboards to cd's, magazines and model aircrafts.

He looked to check to see if the Colonel was still in bed but the sheets were pulled back. Most of them were currently abandoned on the floor and there was a distinct lack of a Sheppard shaped lump. He stepped sideways slightly and felt something crunch beneath his right foot, he winced hoping it wasn't one of John's prized gadgets or toys. As he slowly lifted his foot and looked down to see exactly what he had managed to destroy, his expression became puzzled. He bent down to the ground for a closer inspection, picking up one of the pieces and twirling it around in his hand. It looked like the remnants of a clock. He couldn't have done this, which begged the question - what had Colonel Sheppard been up to?

He returned to his standing position and again looked around; he couldn't hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom but began to head towards it just to check. Maybe he missed the Colonel on route? As he stepped towards the centre of the room, he stopped and again squinted but was having trouble making anything out. He inwardly chastised himself as he realised that all it took was a thought of "lights on". The sudden burst of light made Carson blink as his pupils again adjusted to the change. It was at this moment he saw a bare foot on the floor protruding from the edge of the bed. Carson's heart sank as he headed towards the bed. On closer inspection he found Sheppard lying on the floor, naked bar boxers and his BDU's tangled at his feet, hair and body still wet and forming a now bloody pool of water around him.

Carson's first thought was electrocution, however there were no power sources or electrical items near the Colonel's body. He knelt down next to John, carefully edging out his hand to touch him, thoughts of electrocution still dancing around at the back of his mind. He reached out and tentatively touched the Colonel's shoulder. He sighed with relief when he didn't receive any kind of shock, and inwardly realised how dangerous his action could have been.

"Colonel, can you hear me son?" Upon receiving no response he set to work, checking for a pulse, and beginning to assess the damage. John had a nasty head injury, which was bleeding heavily, and he seemed to be lying on his left arm, which from what he could see, looked to be resting at an odd angle. Carson reached for his pack and pulled out a dressing, which he placed firmly over the wound to apply pressure. He did not move the Colonel; he wanted to play it safe, but, knowing the Colonel's track record for bad luck - a simple accident could have terrible consequences.

"Oh lad, what have you gone and done to yourself this time?" He reached to his ear, tapping his communicator. "This is Beckett, I have a medical emergency in Colonel Sheppard's quarters."

The gurney arrived in record time and his medical team set to work, carefully avoiding the puddle of water on the floor.

"Lets do this by the book; he has a head injury and I am not happy with the way he fell. Can we immobilize his neck and get him on a spinal board? Just as a precaution." Carson reasoned that it never hurt to be over cautious and if everything turned out fine it was a good training exercise for his staff.

The medical team carefully imobilised the Colonel fitting a collar in place around John's neck and a ridged splint to his left arm to prevent any further damage to the limb. Carefully the medics turned him in one fluid movement onto the waiting spinal board with minimal disturbance and effort. The straps were adjusted and fastened to ensure that the Colonel would be secure on this journey.

A nurse quickly inserted an IV into his right arm. She went on to fix the sticky pads to his chest and connected the wires of the heart monitor, which in turn began to beep rhythmically. A blood pressure cuff was fitted to his upper arm. With the final act of fixing an oxygen mask in place over the colonel nose and mouth, the medical team gathered up their equipment and began to wheel the gurney containing their unconscious military leader towards the infirmary.

John came jolting back to consciousness as the med team were on route. He was confused, his head hurt and his left arm throbbed. Something was pressed over his nose and mouth that hissed loudly, which in turn made his head throb more emphatically. He tried to move his right arm with the intention of getting rid of whatever was causing the noise and discomfort. He only wanted to gain enough peace to head back into the comforting lull of darkness. He couldn't move. He peeled his eyes open in panic, fear ripping through his body, causing him to pull in a deep gasp of air. Had he been captured by some enemy force again, was he to be tortured for information? His eyes looked around wildly but everything was a blur, sharp lights flying above his head, he tried to turn his head to see if he could see what was going on but had no range of movement his entire body was restrained. Feeling utterly trapped and helpless, he tried in vain to thrash around to free his body. He felt strong arms holding him down, and familiar voice came from the blob looming over his head.

"Come on now son, stay still, its ok. You're safe in Atlantis. You had a wee bit of an accident but we'll have you fixed up in no time." The voice was calming but his mind struggled to process the information. The last thing he remembered was being in his quarters, getting ready, he was late.

"I'm late." He forced the words out not sure why, he was so disorientated; what was he late for?

"Don't worry Colonel the mission can wait, just stay still and try to relax." The Scottish brogue was comforting.

"Carson?"

"Yes Colonel, you're fine. Just a nasty head wound making you a little confused," Carson reassured.

His body felt wet and ice cold and he began to shiver, wait...was he naked? Wait.. no, he could feel material next to his uninjured arm. He was about to try and ask where all his clothes had gone, when he felt the warmth of a blanket placed over him. Warmth crept through his damp skin and comforted him enough to send him back into blissful unconsciousness. As he closed his eyes, his body involuntary let out a small moan.

Carson rubbed his hand across John's sternum

"Colonel? Can you hear me son, I need you to open your eyes. Don't be going back to sleep just yet." The voice was demanding and he attempted to open his eyes but unconsciousness was far too inviting. He would just rest for a little while. Carson had other ideas. He shone his penlight in John's eyes, and continued to forcefully demand he stay awake. What had he done to deserve this? He just wanted to take a nap?

"What... happened?" He managed to force the words out of his mouth but the effort made him nauseous.

"Sick," he croaked out in warning. The movement promptly stopped, the oxygen mask was removed and his entire body tipped in one fluid movement to the side allowing him to vomit without choking. Once the waves of nausea and gagging subsided he felt his body returned to its original position, his face was wiped and the oxygen mask replaced.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't worry Colonel, you'll be in the infirmary soon and I'll give you something for that, just stay awake a little longer for me son."

Once in the infirmary, John was transferred from the gurney to a bed. For the moment they left him strapped to the backboard, fully aware that once released from the restraints John would most likely be uncooperative and attempt to move. The team set about hooking the Colonel up to various pieces of equipment and Carson asked one of the nurses to bring the portable scanning device, eager to check John's condition. Carson tried to be optimistic that his over protective actions would prove just to be precautionary, and John would be released from the board so he would be able to relax and rest.

John wanted to be free from the restraints. His head throbbed to the same beat as his arm and his nose began to itch, all of which were beyond his control. A feeling which he did not relish - he needed control. Everything around him was still a blur; he seemed to lay there for an eternity, before finally someone began to release the restraints.

"Ok Colonel, we have your results back. You have a nasty head wound, which is going to need stitching, and it's given you a wee bit of a concussion. Your neck is going to be pretty sore for a few days aswell. You also have a broken arm, which will need to go in a cast. Everything else, I am happy to say is clear, so we can take you off the spinal board and make you a little bit more comfortable." Carson said.

"Ok Colonel, we are going to slide you off the board, just lie still and let us do the work. Then we'll see about sorting out the cast and stitches." John felt utterly exhausted and didn't think he could have moved if he wanted to. He just wanted to sleep. It didn't however stop him from trying. Firm hands prevented him from succeeding and he relented allowing them to lift him slightly as the board was slid from beneath him. A nurse set about freeing the Colonel from his wet underclothing and replaced them with a crisp clean white gown. John wasn't too happy with this situation, but was far to exhausted to protest. The nurse Placed a warm blanket over him and brought it up to under his chin, as she gently tucked him in. John didn't protest as she towelled of his wet hair and noticed her smirk to herself probably at how unruly it actually was. John waited for her to attempt to flatten his unruly mass of hair, like his old school master had once attempted , but was relieved when she left it be, smiling at him warmly, obviously deciding she would be fighting a losing battle.

A few hours later and John was finally settled into the infirmary bed for a second time, his arm elevated on a pillow and encased in a new crisp white cast. His head had also been neatly stitched and an angry bruise and a nasty lump had formed across his forehead. Carson stood beside his bed making notes on his chart.

"Ok Colonel, I dread to ask but how's the pain? Any nausea? I don't want to give you anything too strong because of the concussion, but you need to rest. We are going to need to wake you regularly to check on you, I'm afraid."

"It's Okay Carson, I'm fine." John answered sleepily, simply wishing to just to be left alone to sink into the warmth of sleep and escape the dull throb that emanated from both his arm and his head.

"Of course he's not fine!" Rodney approached the infirmary bed, concern replaced by annoyance. "He's the only person on Atlantis who needs a risk assessment to take a shower!" Rodney turned to address John. "I mean really, of all the dangers you face on a daily basis stepping through the gate, you land in the infirmary because you slipped getting out of the shower."

"Rodney, the Colonel has had a pretty bad day, he doesn't need you adding to it. So for goodness sake, will you let the man rest?" Carson scolded. "If you persist in preventing him from sleeping I can remedy it by administering a sedative... to you!"

John knew he was in for some serious stick when he recovered, but for now his faithful medical protector would take care of Rodney. He only had one aim... sleep.

**The End**


End file.
